Her Hesitant Heart by Carla Kelly Page A

the aid station, took a look and went bat-shit crazy.”
    No wonder Stanley has such a colorful vocabulary
, Susanna thought. “Surely the major tried to explain …”
    “And Crook didn’t hear one damn word of it.” Reese leaned closer, as though the room was fullof Rebel sympathizers. “Some say Crook tried to yank the major out of that tent, but Joe Randolph held him off with a scalpel and backed Crook into a corner.” He shrugged. “That’s when the Union soldier died.”
    “Surely it was obvious …” Susanna tried again.
    “Nothing’s obvious in the heat of battle. When the Union secured South Mountain, Crook pulled enough strings to have Randolph sent to Florida among the saw grass and alligators. Maybe he hoped Joe would die of malaria.”
    “That’s so unfair. Had he no friends?”
    “Precious few. Joe is from Virginia, remember? Well, General George Thomas—he was also a Virginian—did manage to retrieve him from Florida. Joe served with Pap Thomas and the Army of the Cumberland until the war ended.”
    “Thank goodness for General Thomas.”
    “Too bad he isn’t still alive. Joe was supposed to serve with General Thomas in the Department of the Pacific, but the general died on his way to San Francisco in 1870. The Medical Department reassigned Joe here to the Department of the Platte, which Crook heads now. Talk about bad luck. Crook’s going to lead this winter expedition, so Joe will get left behind with hemorrhoids and the clap.”
    “It must be humiliating to be passed over like that,” she said.
    “I’ve wondered why Joe doesn’t just leave the army. He could practice anywhere.”
    “Maybe he just doesn’t care,” Susanna said.
    Let this be a cautionary tale
, she told herself, as she went to the upstairs window in the hall that overlooked the parade ground.
You mustn’t quit caring
.
    She finally retired to her blanket-partitioned bedroom, wondering how a well-educated man could tolerate such scorn heaped on him. She was drifting to sleep when she realized that for the first time in more than a year, her son wasn’t square in the middle of her thoughts.
I am not alone in misfortune
, she thought.
    Nick Martin was waiting for her on the porch of Old Bedlam the next morning. Wrapped in an army blanket, he was covered in a light skiff of snow.
    “Nick, tell me you haven’t been here all night!”
    He stood up and shook himself like a Saint Bernard emerging from a snowbank. “No. The major was all night at Sergeant Rattigan’s house, and I went there first.” He shook his head. “Maeve Rattigan needs a miracle, and so I have informed my superior.”
    “The Lord God Almighty?” Susanna asked.
    “The very one,” he replied. “Major Randolph says she tries and tries to have babies and they never make it.”
    Poor woman
, Susanna thought. “Is Major Randolph as tired as you?”
    “More. When someone dies, no matter howsmall, he just paces and paces in his office.” Nick folded his blanket. “What can I do for you, my child?”
    “Let’s see what’s inside, and then I’ll tell you.”
    She looked around in surprise at the dirty space that was rapidly becoming a classroom. Without the heavy drapes, sunlight poured in and warmed the place, even without a fire lit in the newly swept fireplace. The desks were clean and someone had polished them. There was even a blackboard now, and a pile of books by the door.
    “Looks like the miracle happened right here, Nick,” she said.
    The windows were dusty again, probably from the work of the chimney sweep, so she sent Nick up the ladder to wash them once more. She admired a handsome bookcase near her desk. “Where did this …”
    Nick looked down from his lofty height. She almost expected him to raise his hand in a blessing. “I
have
seen one like that in the major’s quarters,” he said, then turned his attention to the window. “The Lord provides.”
    “My goodness, I wonder when he found the time,” she